Jolly Roger
by Alittica
Summary: In the heat of the moment, the very last thing Charlie wants to hear is Justin using the most awful nickname in the world. Based on Cp Coulter's Dalton. Chustin. Rated T for some pre-smut and Tweedle teasing.


Charlie Amos loved his parents. They were kind people, and they loved him. His father had always played pirates and knights and cowboys with him when he was small, and his mother had read him a bedtime story every night and cuddled him when his tummy hurt. As he got older, his dad came to every soccer game and constantly bragged about what a fine man Charlie was growing up to be, and his mom cooked him his favorite meals and still fussed over him when he felt under the weather. Charlie loved his parents, he really did. But after what had just happened, he was desperately wishing that they'd never set foot in his school.

The night had started out great. Charlie had taken Justin out to dinner, and then they'd walked around one of the local street fairs. They'd laughed and played games and stolen kisses. The whole evening, the two Prefects had been driving each other crazy; a lingering touch here, a heated glance there, one of them leaning in a little closer than necessary or the other whispering their desire. By the time they got back to Windsor and inside Chaz's dorm, they were both on fire and aching for each other.

They were laying on the bed, Charlie hovering above Justin, trailing kisses down his abdomen and beginning to unbuckle the Hanover's pants when the unthinkable happened. Justin looked down at him, smirked, and said the words that made Charlie want to crawl in a hole and die.

"Mmm…yes, my Jolly Roger, that's it."

Charlie's eyes widened and he jumped off Justin liked he'd been burned. Justin looked confused and bewildered.

"What…what did you call me?"

"I just…I heard your dad call you that and I thought it was cute."

"No. No. No. Absolutely not! You…that…no! You can't just-you can't call me _that _while I'm undoing your pants! Then I just start thinking of how freaking embarrassing it is and then I think about the fact that you heard it from _my parents_ and they have no place in either of our heads while I'm _undoing your pants, Justin_." Charlie was flushed and panting and pacing the room like a mad man. Justin, on the other hand, was gazing up at his boyfriend with a mixture of amusement and sympathy.

"I'm sorry, love. If you want, I won't call you that again. But," the Brit gave a grin that reminded Charlie of the Tweedles and only increased his discomfort, "I could call you by your nickname and make you think of things that are decidedly _not_ your parents." Justin got up and walked over to a still blushing and rigid Charlie. He circled around him, pressing kisses along his neck and back, running his hands down the Windsor's stomach.

"Feeling any better, Jolly Roger?" Hands gripped at Chaz's thighs.

"How can I make it up to you, Jolly Roger?" A quick nip to the spot just below Charlie's jaw left the boy shivering and uncrossing his arms.

"Are you going to come back to bed, Jolly Roger?" Justin murmured this into Charlie's ear, voice low and thick with desire, as he gently fondled the growing bulge in Chaz's pants. With a groan, Charlie gave in and came back to bed, where he discovered that while Justin could even make that awful nickname sound attractive, the Windsor much preferred when his boyfriend couldn't form any coherent words at all.

The next morning, however, Charlie was reminded of how much he despised that name, his thin dorm walls, and most of all, the Tweedles.

"Good morning, Jolly Roger," Ethan said seductively in a mock British accent as Charlie entered the kitchen seeking coffee

"Oh, Jolly Roger, did you sleep well?" moaned out his twin, wearing a matching grin.

"We imagine you did-"

"Because we heard what you were doing-"

"And anyone who performs acts that cause _that _much noise must pass out from pure exhaustion right after, Jolly Roger."

Charlie turned beet red and probably would have chased them around the house if not for the fact that what they were saying reminded him of the previous night's events. So instead, he smirked, poured himself a cup of coffee, and walked out, leaving two extremely confused Tweedles in his wake.

You know, it really wasn't that bad a nickname.


End file.
